Poisoned Clouds
by PunyMusketeer
Summary: A strange event in the night changes Italy's behavior, and has other countries suspicious. They want to know the truth as to what happened, but little do they know this may be more than they can handle.
1. Clouded

It was dark. Everything was dark.

Italy stirred in his sleep, rolling from one corner of the bed to the next in discomfort. The darkness frightened him, and he usually slept with a nightlight on beside the bed.

Earlier that day, he'd fallen asleep straight after training with Germany and the country was forced to carry him to his own bed. Obviously he hadn't thought to turn on the light like Italy did every night before he went to bed. So the Italian was left to sleep alone; scared.

The blinding darkness only seemed to grow and eventually engulf the corners of the room. It leaked through the air and shadowed the space around the sleeping country. Very slowly, it caught onto the furniture nearby, and snuck up the wooden legs until it continued venturing over to the main source of attention.

Suddenly the window broke from its locked state and spread open, letting in the strong breeze that had begun to gather outside. The whistling sounds awoke the country from his sleep, and his eyes opened wide in fear.

"W-Who's there?" He asked, shaken up from the view in front of him.

Shuffling from his spot, he silently crept to the window whilst on his bed, and checked to see what happened. Nothing appeared out of order. Other than the latches, that had been forced to break from their hold on the window.

Inspecting the scene, he didn't know what caused the small amount of damage, so he only thought it must have broken from age.

But only then did he notice his mistake.

The black, endless void gathering around Italy came close. It was literally…moving. Expanding and growing larger by each moment that passed. He forced himself to snap out of his shock when he threw his back to the wall his bed leaned up against. One could say they would be terrified as well, but others would only comment on what they saw. Not what they felt at the time.

It swallowed the room, and came up to the covers of Italy's bed, moving forward ever so slightly, as if taunting him. Telling him to run like the coward he was. However his chance no longer followed.

Or rather, it never existed.

"Stay away from me!" He yelled, swiping his arms at the clouds of black surrounding him.

As his hand came in contact with the moving entity, it latched around his skin and pulling him from his spot against the wall. He struggled and whimpered, trying to get away with what strength his body could give.

Tears came to his eyes and he screamed, "Germany! H-Help me! Please!"

His cries came to no avail, and the void pulled him in, covering the entirety of the room in the end.


	2. First Aspect

**Thank you for your comments on the first chapter!**

**I am indeed going to do my best in updating this regularly, and hopefully finish it in time before my holidays end, and I go back to school. I hope you enjoy reading 'Poisoned Clouds'~**

Time passed, and nothing happened.

Black curled up the walls and slithered on the ground, veiling the space around it in vines of splattered ink. It dripped down until it reached the ground, ruining its former glory as a well decorated, and lively looking room.

Several hours went by, and no change occurred.

It was dead silent.

However as day light began to unfurl over the hills, the clouds quickly dispersed themselves, with the ink covering the walls evaporating into steam and disappearing from sight. Italy was revealed, lying on the ground in an unconscious state. It didn't appear as if the substance had harmed him. The early morning had come, and Italy awoke, finding himself on the ground in an uncomfortable position.

"Ve… why am I on the ground?" He asked himself, but could not remember why.

He was training with Germany, running away as he was yelled at…then eventually fell asleep. However the memories ended there. Italy put a hand to his head and held it in place when he stood up and stumbled for a step or two. His head ached. It stung the edges of his mind and made any processing thoughts incoherent, leading him nowhere in the end. So, he went about his every day routines, with the lost events of the night in the back of his mind.

"Germany! Germany!" the country called, swinging his arm about with enthusiasm until he accidently hit his face.

He recoiled and covers his eye where he hit it, whining pathetically as the blonde sighed from the path he strolled on.

"Dummkopf…" The German muttered, removing Italy's hand from his face to get a closer look. A red mark appeared on his skin, what would soon become a bruise due to his foolishness. Germany shook his head in disapproval, and poked the shorter man on the forehead.

"Watch what you are doing next time…"

"Si! I will! Because that really hurt and now my face probably looks ugly!" Italy exclaimed sadly, tipping his head towards the ground shamefully. He didn't want to look unattractive while he was outside. Especially not with such beautiful looking girls hanging about going their everyday lives.

"You're fine Italy. But aside from that, I have a question to ask you."

Veneziano's face contorted into one of curiosity, and he tilted his head. "Ve…what is it?"

"Were you by any chance…yelling last night?"

That…funny atmosphere that almost always hung around them dampened. He had no recollection of what occurred, and therefore he left Germany hanging by a thread when he shook his head in denial. That never happened, did it? At least that's what he thought to himself. He noticed the blonde giving him a strange look.

Was there something wrong with his face?

"Italy…" Germany spoke, heavily surprised, "You're…glaring at me."


	3. The Images

Italy stepped away from Germany. His eyes were open, narrowed towards him in a glare that seamed hatred and murderous intent. The look one would never expect to see on the Italian's carefree expression.

But as he mentioned it, Italy snapped out of his momentary trance, and stared at him, eyes widening in a slight terror. It was surprising enough he opened them, but to glared at him like that… That wasn't Italy at all.

"I-I…I'm sorry! I didn't mean to I'm sorry! That came out of nowhere I had no idea I was doing that!" Italy pleaded, coming to Ludwig and clasping his hands together whilst shaking his head furiously. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry; _he continued reciting the same two words over and over as anxiety built up inside the frantic man.

Germany had to force him to shut up by throwing a hand to his mouth, frowning at how seriously he took the matter.

"That's enough apologizing Italy… I'm sure you didn't mean it."

Veneziano looked at him in despair, desperately asking for forgiveness for what he did. But with a sincere stare from Germany, his tears let up and he smiled. However…then he felt strange. Italy…wanted to attack him. He wanted to bite the hand covering his mouth, and tackle the German to the ground. And within moments, the crying had stopped, and amber eyes met a sea of blue. Blue that he ever so much wanted to taint red with the blood of—

He couldn't do that. There's no way he could ever hurt his friend, his best friend in the whole wide world. Italy was slowly becoming terrified of his own thoughts. Ideas raced through his head, revealing images of torture, possible outcomes for the meeting of every country he come in tact with. He…wanted to see them dead on the ground. Blood flowing from their mutilated corpses to his feet.

In a fit of panic, Italy slapped Germany's hand away, shouting, "K-Keep away from me! I-It's not safe! I'll end up hurting you!"

Germany watched, dumbfounded as he ran away from him, accidently shoving into people and eventually tripping on the ground. But as he got up, he growled at a woman who attempted to help him.

This couldn't be Italy.

It simply can't.

"Mein gott…" He whispered to himself. Germany raised his hand; the one Italy had slapped away and saw it turn red. That wasn't some meek jostle from the Italian. It was a declaration of attack, or the start of one. The blonde had to search further into this. There must have been a reason for Italy acting so…out of character. He was worried about him. Worried, and deep down, scared of his behaviour. Scared that the Italian he once knew, had left.

"Italy…what's happened to you?"

'_Since Italy ran away, I'll have to consult Japan and see what he has to say about this. He may know a thing or two as well. Let's just hope he doesn't do anything reckless though…' _The tall man planned out his next course of actions, nodding in approval and clenched his fists.

This must be dealt with.


	4. Follow up

"Japan! Open this door immediately; we have a very important matter to discuss!"

The German banged on the sliding door, having the proper behaviour to not simply open it up and trudge inside to find the man he spoke to from beyond the structure of his traditional Japanese household. He was in a rush.

With Italy gone AWOL with no reason for doing so, he had to consult the other former Axis member of the situation. How much time did they have before the Italian changed so drastically he would actually hurt someone? No, it wouldn't come to that, would it? Germany contemplated on the matter at hand, and subconsciously spoke Italy's name in a whisper. The level of anxiety he had about this drove him off the edge of patience.

"Japan!" He yelled once more in a demanding tone, waiting for a response, "Get out here!"

"Hai." The door abruptly opened up and slid to the side with Japan in his white military uniform. He stood straight and looked up to Germany because of his short height. "Forgive me for the wait." The Asian replied, bowing his head in respect.

"It's fine, but we need to go _now_. I'll inform you on the way." He sharply turned around and marched forward, not even giving a second thought as to whether he would follow or not. He suspected he would, otherwise this would have been for nothing, and he simply wasted time that was precious to him. The Japan's footsteps became more apparent from behind, he began to explain without letting him speak.

"Now then. As much as I don't want to, we're going to Italy's older brother, Romano if I remember correctly. The reason being, that dummkopf has run away and I fear he's going to land himself in a lot of trouble…"

He paused. That same scene of what occurred played over in his head. Italy greeted him with a cheerful smile as usual; he asked if he had yelled the previous night and received a glare in response to it. It all went downhill from that point on. He was panicking, while Germany himself seemed confused about his behaviour. Then he slapped his hand away and left a red mark…a mark that had now become a bruise as he lifted his arm and glanced at it. Quickly, he shook his head and kept his mind focused on the task at hand.

Japan opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off. "He acted very strangely today. More than usual I mean." He added. "I don't suppose you know anything about this, Japan?"

The black haired man shook his head in denial. "No, I do not. Do you have ideas about where he has gone?" He asked while keeping a stern gaze on him.

"Nein…" He sighed. "If we get nothing out of his brother, we're checking back in Italy's house to see if there is clue. After all, it only started today. Yesterday he visited him before our training started, so we can only guess something happened then," He guessed, with Japan nodding his head in agreement. But if he was mistaken about all of this…he didn't want to think about the consequences of wrong judgement.

As they approached the door to Romano's house, the Italian was at his window facing the streets outside. He saw the two countries come towards the front door, and shut the curtain instantly, leaving them with a glare. Germany narrowed his eyes and wondered what he was doing there, when he knocked on the door and was met with a gun to his face.

"**Don't you dare come in potato eater. You aren't touching Veneziano." He growled.**


	5. Hide

"Keep away from him and get out!" Romano yelled, clicking the gun in his grasp with an aim directed towards Germany's head. This was not a matter of games and tomfoolery. This was his brother they sought; at least that's what the elder twin of the Italian brother thought.

"Calm down!" The tallest of them all ordered, raising his hands in surrender towards the threatening Italian.

He shook his head, stepping inside the house while keeping an aimed gaze towards Germany and Japan. The black haired man grimaced but showed no anger in his expression. "We wish not to fight. We have come for questions." He said, bowing his head in respect to Romano despite the weapon in his hand.

"Then ask already!" Romano shouted back, infuriation within his tone.

Germany sighed, "Your bruder, Italy-"

"He isn't here and I don't know anything so piss off!" Southern Italy interrupted as if he had been suspecting such an inquiry. Despite the look on his face, Romano had yet to pull the trigger of the gun, as if something was keeping him from hurting the visitors of his house. Yes, something was indeed keeping him from shooting, but he wouldn't speak of it. "Just get out…" He hissed with a new approach for them to leave.

"Then have you at least heard from him in the last couple of hours?!" Germany pressed on, glaring at Romano.

The answer never reached Germany's ears.

Romano stared at him, lowering the gun and stepping back into his house, surrendering for the meantime. It was sudden, but no further questions were asked as of then. The Italian shook his head, and recoiled away before grabbing the handle of the door and slamming it closed. As a precaution he locked the door and ran away inside his house.

Such actions were surprising to both Germany and Japan. "He looked quite disturbed, do you agree?" the shorter male suggested in thought.

"Ja… "The other replied.

The walls had been deteriorated over time, the stench of age stained the room. A shiver, a whisper and a sniffle to cover up the dripping tears of the country pressed firmly against the damp, dark corner. It was dark, so dark… too dark for him. He was scared, terrified of not only the black void about, but of himself. The monster he thought he was slowly becoming.

Looking only now, Italy noticed his skin colour had darkened, not from the lighting around him, but he'd become tanned in only the matter of an hour. That didn't usually happen to people when they were in darkness, did it? That wasn't normal at all, so what the hell was going on!?

"G-Germany must hate me now…" The young Italian whispered to himself.

As he curled up into the corner, slowly but quite noticeably his hair tone turned into a darker shade of auburn. Red tones sat in it, strand by strand of hair glistened and turned. The changes didn't hurt, they didn't injure him in any way possible. No it felt as if nothing even happened, but that was abruptly wrong if he were to look into a mirror and see what he was becoming. It confused Italy; why did it have to be him of all people?

The silence broke with the knocking of the door leading to the room Italy was preoccupied in.

"Hey, Veneziano…"

Italy lifted his head and turned towards the door, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Romano…" he breathed out.

"That potato bastard and the silent midget were here." He muttered from the other side, leaning against the door with a brief sigh. Italy jolted from his spot, but remained in the corner, a punishment he brought on his self for acting so horribly in front of his best friend.

"…I…Is that so?" He sniffled, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Did they leave?" The Italian asked in a hesitant tone, afraid at the thought of them waiting outside. His brother promised they wouldn't see him, and he believed the other. He just wasn't ready to face them yet after how horribly he acted. He needed to get his act together after all.

"Si. But how long are you going to fucking stay in there for?"

"I-I'll come out…later." He stuttered.

"…Whatever. If you're not out in ten minutes I'm breaking down the door because you locked the god damn thing, idiota." He hissed, giving the door a light kick before walking off and tending to other chores within the house hold. Not that he ever did a good job of it, but he tried since he and his brother were living independent lives now.

Silence, and Italy looked down at his hands, noticing they were clutched into fists.

"…I might hurt you." He spoke quietly.


End file.
